Triumphs and Travails
by Disneyspine
Summary: Claude Frollo is an embittered, old math teacher. Clopin Trouillefou is the new, hip English teacher. What could go wrong? Slash. Modern AU.
1. Chapter 1

_For Anonymous _

The man grit his teeth and held back a sigh and tried not to let his supreme irritation show too much on his face. His bony hands, which were clasped firmly on the desk in front of him, were white-knuckled, however, which was a true testament for his deep and utter loathing for the situation he currently found himself in.

As he had been for the twenty-some years he had been teaching, Claude Frollo was attending a teachers' orientation meeting. Though they had always been supremely tedious and annoying, this one seemed to be even more so. It wasn't some unnamable reason why, though, for it was quite obvious why this meeting was so horrible.

The vein on Frollo's forehead pulsated with the pain in his head, as the loud jabbering on of the newest addition to the staff seemed to grow louder with each passing word.

Frollo was one for regiment, for tradition. He had been teaching for a long time, and as such, he had a strict teaching regiment - the same teaching regiment he used every year, to be precise. He was predictable, but he didn't truly care about that. He was strict, being very tough on his students, which made him the least-liked teacher in the school. However, again, he did not care about such things.

What he did care about, however, was his certain way of doing things: His teaching meathods, his sitting alone in the staff room when lunch time rolled around, his working late into the night...

And somehow, Claude Frollo could just tell this...person was going to do everything in their power to mess with him.

Claude wore a pare of black pants, shoes (freshly shined) in the same color, a charcol dress shirt, and a tie that was, like his shoes and pants, simple black. His hair was grey, combed back from his gaunt severe face, and his intelligent eyes were narrowed in comcentration. He knew he wasn't fashionable - he didn't need to be. He was a teacher, for Christ's sake.

The vast difference in Frollo's wardrobe with the other man's was enough to put him off, but just...everything else made Frollo want to thrust his resignation at Principal Yzma right that moment. The man wore clothes in clashing, outlandish colors. His hair was black and wild. This man spoke loudly, with a slight accent. He had a leering face, or...perhaps a jesting face. He was handsome, in a way that would surely tempt the foolish adolescents. He was...cool, clearly popular.

Should that man and Frollo have attended school together, Frollo knew this man would have been the one to have stolen Frollo's lunch money, to have mocked him for his patch-work clothes, to have bullied him relentlessly until he was in tears and all the other kids were in stitches with some form of sadistic glee.

The pleasure to do all of those things to Frollo had gone to someone else though, for which he was grateful. Frollo had a vague feeling that the man was perhaps a pleasure to be around if you were a young, curvaceous lady, but if you were anywhere else, that hidden dark cruelness that danced in his dark eyes would surely surface.

The last thing that irked Frollo, the thing that probably irked him the most was the man's age. He was so young! He hardly looked to have been out of college, let alone have the capability (mentally or otherwise) to take on the travails of being a high school teacher.

As though sensing Frollo's intense study of him, the man's dark eyes turned to gaze at Frollo. Frollo paled, his mouth pressing into a thin line as the man gave a slight wave of his hand in what could be considered a charming fashion.

'Damn the English department,' Frollo thought. 'They've hired a fool. An absolute fool.'

Never was Frollo more glad to be a math teacher.

The man's eyes were still on Frollo, his face appearing amused. Then he winked.

He winked.

He winked at Frollo.

Claude Frollo's pale face became red in an instant, and he quickly looked down at the meeting table, trying to drown out the sound of the chatting voices around him, in addition to the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

No. The most irritating thing about the man was most certainly not his age.

It was the fact he was too damn handsome.

**_A/N I enjoy this ship. I really do. _**

_**If you would like to request a story in any Disney-Pixar animated fandom, please feel free to do so!**_

_**Please review!**_


	2. Chapter 2

It was hot, as was typical of when school began. Regardless of that, it seemed to shock Frollo every year, when he stepped out of his tiny flat onto the streets of the town, feeling the early morning sun's rays bouncing off the pavement straight at him.

His large hooked nose scrunched up in disgust, as he already felt the gnawing of a headache working its way through his head. However, he merely heaved a large sigh, flexing his fingers on the handle of his suitcase, as his shoes began to clack down the dirty sidewalk.

Every first day of school was hard. It was a chore, every year, trying to reign in the adolescents' excitement at being back at school, at being surrounded by their long-missed friends. It was hard, trying to remind them, each and every year, that he was just as terrifying and imposing as the last. Every year, he had to remind the kids that he was not their friend, that he was not someone to confess in, nor someone to confess.

He was pretty sure none of his students knew his first name. And he was completely determined to keep it that way.

Even all the teachers, including the ones that had been there since he began teaching, referred to him as "Mr. Frollo".

That is...except...

Frollo suddenly halted, his lips pressing into a thin line.

That man was driving him insane already, and the school year had not even begun yet.

Claude Frollo had met Clopin Trouillefou during one of the teacher's meetings over the summer. He had replaced one of the older English teachers, and was to teach the Juniors, as well as the AP English class for the seniors. With his being an English teacher, Frollo knew he had his work cut out for him already, what with the war that always seemed to be waging between that math and English departments.

And then, he saw him, in all his purple-suit wearing glory, with his large dark eyes and flirtatious attitude that caused all the female teachers to swoon...

And how he utterly disrespected Frollo by referring to him by his first name, in spite of the age (as well as seniority) difference. And worse, Clopin seemed immune to his fierce glares and rebuttals, merely shrugging them off or winking at him.

Truly, Frollo could rant (internally) about how much he despised this man he barely knew for hours.

Frollo squeezed his eyes shut when there was a sudden excitable gasp that came from his right, followed by the running of feet to catch up with him. "Hello Mr. Frollo!"

Frollo's nose scrunched slightly. He had been hoping to avoid this. "Quasimodo," he grunted.

"How was your summer, Mr. Frollo?" the young man asked, smiling kindly.

"Spectacular," Frollo muttered sarcastically.

When he did not reciprocate the question, the young man wilted slightly, before beaming once more. "That's great! Mine was too! You see, I met this girl..."

Frollo immediately made use of one of the most useful tools he had gained in his teaching career: Selective hearing.

He certainly did NOT want to hear about the young man's romantic issues. He did not want to hear about anybody's issues, period.

For some reason, Quasimodo was the only one of his students to not understand this - the boy drove him mad.

And to make things worse, Quasimodo made a point to walk with Frollo to school whenever possible.

It was annoying. Not as annoying as Clopin's existing, but it was pretty damn close.

One might wonder why Frollo did not rip into Quasimodo, tell him to go away and leave him alone - to absolutely crush the boy, as he had done with other students who got too friendly.

Frollo hated Quasimodo with a passion, but there was something that stopped him from doing just that. It wasn't his conscience that stopped him, or maybe it was. Either way, whatever stopped him is most likely not for reasons you'd think.

But that's another story for another day.

As it were, Frollo's shoes scuffed over the dirty sidewalk, until he finally arrived at the school - so grateful would he be when the temperatures cooled down a bit from the agonizing heat of August. And, at hearing the voice beside him still ("And her hair, sir! It's so long and perfect..."), Frollo would also be happy when Quasimodo graduated and left their small town behind forever.

Finally, Quasimodo rushed off to go do whatever it was the boy did in his spare time. Frollo sighed in relief.

He was just walking across the parking lot, when there was a loud roaring sound. Frollo barely maneuvered out of the way, to avoid being hit by a ridiculously bright yellow convertible that was blasting obnoxious music at top volume. In the convertible was Clopin, wearing that horrible purple-pinstriped suit (minus the jacket) with a dark-green vest, matching purple scarf, and a hat that could only be described as a glorified pimp hat.

Seemingly noticing his reckless driving had almost caused his coworker to get ran over, Clopin smiled charmingly at Frollo as he rolled on passed, winking as he shouted over the music, "Sorry Claude!"

Frollo squeezed his eyes shut. This man would be the death of him, surely...but hopefully not literally.

**_A/N Clopin is fabulous. I mean..."gold convertible", "Purple pinstriped suit", "green vest", "purple scarf" and "glorified pimp hat". He's more fabulous than the color pink._**

**_Thanks for reading, and please review!_**


End file.
